


Trading Sentiments

by VivyLovesHorror



Category: DSMP - Fandom, DreamSMP, mcyt
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, DadSchlatt, Gen, Pre-Canon, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29918916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivyLovesHorror/pseuds/VivyLovesHorror
Summary: Tubbo finds that freedom is more complicated than he first thought.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Trading Sentiments

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, just wanted to put a trigger warning here.  
> TW: While this fic doesn't contain violence, it does contain yelling, profanity, threats, and general toxicness.  
> SO, keep that in mind while reading.

In moments like these, I try to remember what they told me.

I try to remember what I’m fighting for. 

I remember our secret garden…

I close my eyes and  _ remember _ …

“You all don’t understand…” I say, planting a seedling into the ground. I’m trying my best to avoid any eye contact with them. “There is no rationality when it comes to him. He won’t listen to reason, the only thing he listens to is- himself,” I try explaining again, before mumbling quietly “I don’t know why you don’t seem to understand that.”

“Oh no, we understand!” Tommy says, balancing on top of the spruce bench beside me. We built it together as the first and most welcome addition to our secret meeting spot. It’s a “But  _ you _ need to understand, is that you’ve gotta stop caring what he thinks,” he says, waving around his very own stone sword.

“That’s not gonna happen…” I say. “He’s my father. He’s the boss. He gets the last word, that’s just how it works… So if he says I can’t go outside without his supervision... That’s… just how it’s going to have to be…” I say, trailing off in defeat as I slump my shoulders down with a sigh. I stare at the seedling and let my feelings temporarily take over me. I dig my fingers into the cool and damp soil of the forest floor.

Is it silly?

To feel connected to plants, that is.

Plants like this little fern seedling.

So small.

Fragile, and vulnerable….

Yet, it yearns for the room to grow, where it isn’t stifled by weeds and other plant’s roots just… suffocating them to the point of wilting.

“You know, I tend to be the more responsible one, but I’m afraid Tommy has a point” I hear Wilbur say rather calmly.

I’m suddenly and gently pulled from my brooding as the sound of his voice hits my ears. It takes a moment before I look up at him and ask what he means.

“He’s right,” he says, back against the tall hedge that surrounded the garden “You need to stop listening to him.”

I frown and quietly blow some air out of my nose in frustration.

I already know why they can’t seem to understand my predicament. 

We’re on opposite ends of the “sucky parents” spectrum. Where my dad is overbearing, theirs is quite laid back. To the point of negligence at times.

They’re latch-key kids, and I’m a prisoner.

Our situations all suck...

And yet... I can’t help but want a small taste of that freedom.

Despite what Tommy tells me of his father leaving for long periods of time, only to return home coldly, with no greetings, and blood-stained clothing…

I’d trade all I have now to know what it’s like to have that.

Months upon months of freedom, and no supervision at all.

My bed?

Take it.

The library?

Take it.

All the money, the cushy furniture, all of it…

I’d trade them all within a moment’s notice, for a taste- no, not even a taste- just the  _ whiff _ of freedom that they’re allowed.

I frown deeper before I shake my head, and remind myself that their life is far from ideal as well.

...But still…

I  _ want _ that…

As horrible as it sounds…

I want it… and I want it so badly.

“Are you listening, Tubbo?” I hear Wilbur ask. I perk up again and groan as I facepalm “N-No, I’m sorry,” I say, sliding my hand up, as I run my fingers through my hair, pushing back my bangs. “I’ve been spacing out a bit, haven’t I?” I say with an awkward chuckle.

“Yeah, it happens…” Wilbur says “But, I’m going to repeat myself, because this is important.”

“Alright,” I say, moving on to planting the next seedling to keep myself occupied.

“At first, he banned us from your house. Then, he banned you from coming to our house. Then, he forbid you from seeing us period, and now? Now you can’t even go outside without his permission. How long, praytell, do you think it will take before he locks you away in a dungeon and calls it ‘protection’ and says ‘it’s for your own good’, hm?” he asks,

I go silent as I try to focus on gardening, but his shoes enter my field of view…

“Look up at me, Tubbo.” he quietly requested.

I hesitated, before looking up at him.

“We cannot free you if you are holding yourself prisoner,” he stated.

My eyes widened a bit.

“I-... I’m not-”

“Tubbo, you’ve already convinced yourself that your freedom ends at his command,” he said. “We’ve continuously been reminding you of the fact that it doesn’t for months on end, but nothing we say seems to convince you.”

I freeze in place.

The accusation he just threw at me was like a shock to my senses.

I try to come up with a rebuttal, but all the words in my head get caught on a lump in my throat. 

It takes me perhaps too long to properly understand that…

He’s right.

Somewhere along the line of wishing for freedom to be handed to me, I had already given up on the idea of true freedom, when the choice to take it, has been here at my feet, the whole time…

God…

How long did it take for me to pick up on the hints Tommy was dropping for me over the months.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you lived with us?”, “What if we were roommates, Tubbo?!”, “We’ve got some empty space in our attic, you know?”

All sparse little nudges to try to push me in the right direction.

Usually, he’d be bolder than his, but-...

I guess after a certain incident, he didn’t want to come off too strong.

…

“You’re crying…” Wilbur said, his voice quietly laced with concern.

I go even more wide-eyed.

I hadn’t even realized it, but-....tears began streaming down my cheeks.

I wince and back up against the hedge as I wiped my tears onto my sleeves.

This was the first time I had cried in front of the- hell, in front of anybody in  _ years _ …

And I was thoroughly convinced that the sight of my tears would be met with disgust… With mockery, humiliation…

But instead, I was greeted with Tommy’s hand, stretched out towards me.

“C’mon. None of that…” he said gently. “Get up…”

I hesitate…

But slowly, I put my hand on his, and grab it.

Upon grabbing his hand, he swiftly pulled me up into a hug.

…

It was warm…

Comforting, and familial…

“Please, Tubbo…,” he said “Come home with us,” he’s trying not to sound desperate. Trying not to show that he’s hurting for me… But I can tell he is, by the slight wavering in his voice, and the way he’s lightly trembling. “Be free…”

Something about this strikes me.

It hits me in my soul and opens my eyes.

The warmth and comfort of this hug.

The cool, gentle breeze of an autumn night brushing through us.

It makes me realize that my house is not my home…

_ This  _ is my home…

Tommy…

Wilbur…

Our garden…

Is my home…

And I’m  _ going home. _

At this realization, I relax…

I wrap my arms around Tommy as I let the tears silently roll down my face…

I reveal in the warmth of family, and the gentleness of home...

I close my eyes...

And wince at the explosion of glass shards that shoot at my face from the champagne bottle my dad smashed on the table.

“I THOUGHT I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO  **_NEVER SPEAK TO THOSE ASSHOLES AGAIN!_ ** AND NOW YOU WANNA FUCKING- What?  _ MOVE IN WITH THEM? _ ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, TUBBO?”

“No…” I mutter.

“They’re a  _ bad influence _ on you Tubbo, I told you- They’re trying to take you away from me because they- They’re  _ selfish _ , and they’re  _ wild _ and they’re  **_WAY OUT OF LINE, YOU HEAR?!_ ** ” he screams.

I  _ try to remember _ .

I  _ need to remember _ .

Why I’m doing this.

Why it  _ has to be done _ .

But…

“Now, I want your ass  _ UPSTAIRS _ ! And you’re not leaving out that front door for another  **_2 WEEKS!_ ** Am I understood?!”

I try to gather the courage to tell him no…

But I’m paralyzed.

And I fucking hate it.

My stomach is tied in knots, my eyes are burning, and my mouth won’t cooperate with my brain.

I can’t…

Do it…

“ **_AM I UNDERSTOOD?!_ ** ” he screams louder.

“Yes sir…” I manage to choke out.

“Good,” he says “Now go upstairs.”

I nod and turn my head to the floor as I make my way to the stairs.

“And don’t let me hear  **_ANY_ ** fucking crying up there!” he says.

I nod again and stutter out a “Y-Yes sir-” before sprinting the rest of the way to my room.

I throw myself onto my bed and immediately grab my pillow.

I hyperventilate into it, trying to keep myself from sobbing, and alerting my father.

I hold in my sobs in between short and panicked breaths.

It’s not long before I’m left with a headache and a ringing in my ears, as it is deathly silent in my cold and lonely room.

The air in here is stifling and stagnant.

There isn’t any movement.

There isn’t any sound.

There’s only me.

And I… am worthless…

So worthless, I end up passing out facing the wall, hugging my pillow, as soon as I stop panicking.

And so, I wake up.

Greeted by cold and dull bricks.

I sit up on my bed and rub my eyes.

I turn around and see something on the floor.

It’s a plate full of cookies with a glass of milk and a note beside it.

. . . 

I smile in the fondness of memories of when I and my dad used to bake these together.

I pick up the plate and the note, leaving behind the milk on the floor.

It’s a short note.

It reads,

“I’m sorry about the outburst kiddo. I hope you understand. - Dad.” 

… It’s not before I begin making excuses for him again.

_ He still loves me, no doubt. _

_ He’s just trying to protect me, to do what’s best for me. _

_ I’m his only child, after all. _

_ He overreacts because  _ **_he loves me._ **

_ Besides, he was drunk anyways. _

_ Remember all the good times? _

_ We can have more. _

_ He can change… _

_ I can have freedom. _

_ I just need to  _ **_wait for it._ **

…

But how long have I already waited…?

How much  _ longer  _ do I  _ have to _ wait…?

And if he loves me, then why doesn’t he see I’m in pain?

Why doesn’t he ever stop hurting me…?

And do all the good times we’ve had erase all the pain he costs me…?

I sit, and contemplate…

There isn’t much time for me to make my final decision.

Wilbur and Tommy were waiting for me, as discussed.

Do I go…? Or do I stay…?

The decision is mine.

And it’s  _ irreversible _ .

That fact sits on my shoulders and weighs me down, and I rack my brain for the right decision.

My brain is telling me to stay, but my is pleading with me to leave.

What do I do…?

. . . 

The room door opens gently…

“Tubbo…” he said softly. “Tubbo, look, I’m sorry about-”

He cuts himself off.

The moment of silence as his heart sinks as he realizes the room is empty is almost heartbreaking.

I almost reconsider, as I hear him shuffling about, looking for me.

He must’ve seen the open window and came to the conclusion that I was gone, before running downstairs…

I let go of the breath I’m holding, in relief that he didn’t actually look outside the window to see me standing there on the ledge.

I jump down as carefully as I can and run barefoot, no coat, no backpack, none of my belongings.

Only the urge-

No…

The  _ need _ to be free.

I go to the designated area in the woods, and frantically begin searching for it- when I see it.

A lump of mossy cobblestone.

I lift it, and drop down the hole beneath it, and put it back into place.

Immediately, I’m greeted with a big hug from Tommy.

“You made it!!! I knew it! I  **_KNEW_ ** you’d make the right decision!!!” he says as he lets go of me and bounces in excitement.

“Of course I did. You’re my family…” I said with a smile.

I looked down the long stretch of a tunnel that Tommy, Wilbur, and I have been digging since that day in the garden.

The rails the minecart sat upon stretched for miles.

It was almost intimidating.

I almost wanted to turn back, but...

The excited look upon Tommy’s face as he boarded the minecart convinced me otherwise. 

“C’mon on, get in!” he exclaimed.

I smiled shyly and sat in the minecart quietly.

“You might wanna put this on~” Tommy said as he placed a turtle shell helmet upon my head.

It already had holes to accommodate my horns and everything.

“Oh- Okay-” I said with a smile as I secured it in place.

“Alright, you ready?” he asked.

...Was I ready…?

...I don’t know if in that moment I was truly ready to change my entire life.

But…

“In 3…”

All I knew…

“2…”

Is what I wanted.

“1…”

_ Freedom _ .

And with a pull of a lever, it started.

The minecart accelerated forward with unbelievable speed.

I smiled and joined Tommy as he screamed with delight.

We soon began to shoot up an incline, and before we knew it, we weren’t underground anymore.

We were on a long bridge between mountains as we zoomed off to Tommy and Wilbur’s lowly little cliff house off the side of the hill.

I can’t even begin to describe the feeling.

The rushing wind against my face.

The way my heartbeat raced in the best way possible.

And all in the company of my best friend… My brother, Tommy.

It was exhilarating.

It was liberating.

It was damn near intoxicating.

But soon, the minecart began to slow down to a reasonable speed.

I smiled, as I sat back and felt the wind gently brush against me.

“Wasn’t that GREAT?!” Tommy asked.

“The best!” I reply with a chuckle. “I’m guessing you knew that’d get my spirits up…?”

“Absolutely! And I was right, wasn’t I?!”

“Yeah yeah, you were right…” I conceded.

“HA! I  _ knew it _ , I told Wilbur it wasn’t too fast!” he said.

I smile and l look up at the sky and close my eyes.

…

And for some reason…

I get the urge to look back.

I can see the shape of my house in the distance. And the teeny tiny silhouette that is my dad, on the balcony screaming…

Now that I see him, I can faintly hear the frantic screaming...

“TUBBO?” he screams. He’s searching for me… He’s worried… He-..

He cares.

“TUBBO, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he screams.

I frown and look forward, and cover my ears.

Tommy looks back at me curiously.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

His human ears can’t hear what I can…

“I-It’s nothing!” I say with a smile “Just- excited to see my new room!”

He smiles and falls for it as he returns his attention to the road ahead of us. “Good!” he said “I’ll help you decorate it if you want. You’ll probably make it look boring if you do it all by yourself!” he teases.

I force an awkward laugh and agree as I try to ignore the distant screams of my Dad.

That’s when I feel it…

A tiny water droplet smacked me, right on my forehead.

I look up and notice the clouds.

“Ah fuck.” I hear Tommy say “I was hoping we’d make it home before the storm. I fucking told Wilbur we should’ve added more powered rails!!!” he complained.

I stay silent as the wind picks up.

Harsher, it pushes me roughly, and rocks the minecart.

“‘m sorry about this Tubbo,” Tommy says “but don’t worry! We’re almost home!”

I don’t respond…

The rain begins to pour.

Lightly at first, and then heavily.

The sky pelts me with thick, heavy water droplets, and drenches me in cold rain.

But…

I don’t mind it…

It feels almost…

Calming to me.

When we finally get to their house, I enter, and practically ignore the both of them.

I decline their offer of dinner, and cake.

I just let Tommy lead me to my bedroom, and wish me goodnight.

…

The room is empty.

The house is empty.

I could do whatever I wish…

But my first instinct is to go back to sleep…

…

But I can’t.

I sit and stare at the ceiling for hours, wondering why I can’t drift into slumber, when suddenly, I hear it…

The crackle of thunder , and the flash of lighting filling my room with light for a brief moment, before disappearing once more…

And then I finally understand…

I open the window...

Grab some pillows and a blanket…

And sit lay in the window sill.

Drifting off, as the harsh winds of the storm push against me, and the droplets of rain hit my legs, and soak my cover…

I relax, as I realize why I can finally sleep…

…

It feels like him…

. . . 

It feels like home…

I guess what I never realized was…

I’d have to trade more than my luxury house to gain true freedom.

I’d have to trade the sentiments instilled within it...

**Author's Note:**

> This is most likely going to be a stand-alone fic, so please leave your thoughts and feedback in the comments, it's highly appreciated <3


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